Kindred spirits II
by quiller
Summary: What can you do if you're being stalked….by a ghost?
1. Chapter 1

Kindred spirits II

_Author's note: this story is the sequel I was asked to write to 'Kindred spirits'. I decided not to add it as successive chapters to the first story, as that can be read as a stand-alone. However you will need to have read the original before you read this._

_My thanks to Purupuss and Jules for proofreading, and to Gerry Anderson and his team for creating the TB world. I do not own the TB characters or any other publication mentioned below._

Chapter One 

With an exasperated sigh, John sat up in bed, running his hands through his hair. He glanced at the bedside clock. _2.17 a.m_. He had been lying there for over three hours, but was no nearer sleep than when he had first climbed into bed. And no wonder, when he was as tightly strung as one of Virgil's piano wires. He flung back the covers and padded across the room. Standing with his forehead resting on the cool glass of the window, he gazed out at the stars. Even this view, so much brighter than when seen filtered by the Earth's atmosphere, could not soothe him tonight. How much more of this could he take before he cracked?

It had started innocuously enough. He had been back on Thunderbird Five a couple of days when the familiar voice had come over the radio. "John? Are you there? Can you talk to me tonight?" He had been half-expecting it, but the sound still sent a shiver down his spine. He stood there, frozen, grasping the microphone but unable to speak. What could he possibly say?

After a couple of attempts, Ellie's voice went quiet, much to John's relief. He was disgusted to realise that when he put the microphone down, his hand was shaking.

A couple of days later, he had a similar call, and still found himself unable to answer.

Then the calls started to get more insistent.

"John, it's Ellie. I was hoping you'd have time for a chat."

"John? I'm getting worried. I'm sure you should be there by now."

"John? I'm sure you should be back on duty by now. Are you there? Are you off sick or something?"

"John, I'm getting really worried now. Please talk to me!"

"John! What's wrong? Why won't you talk to me? Have I done something to upset you? Please answer!"

When she called yesterday, he could hardly make out her words as they were interspersed by sobs. That was too much – he couldn't bear it any longer. He knew it was wrong, he knew he was putting people's lives at risk, but he reached for the master control switch that turned off all incoming calls. At once the background hum of voices in the control room ceased. However, the sound of a girl's sobs could still be heard. "P-please, J-john, I can't b-bear this."

John stared at the speaker grille, a look of horror on his face. He switched the master control back on, then ran from the room.

This morning he decided to avoid the control room as much as possible. The Emergency Alert would be repeated all over the station, so he could always get back there if a call came through from someone needing International Rescue's services. He was cleaning out the cupboards in the kitchen (high time this was done anyway) when the speaker on the wall crackled into life. But instead of the beeping of the alarm, he heard the familiar voice again. "John, please talk to me. I'm so lonely."

John stared at the speaker in horror. There was nowhere on the station he could go out of range – he and Brains had designed Thunderbird Five with that purpose in mind. He had gone to bed that night with a pillow stuffed over the speaker by his bed, but even so he had lain there tense, alert for the smallest sound.

Now he stood gazing out at the stars. Abruptly he turned and started pacing up and down the room, the tension in his muscles too high to let him remain still. His brain, though fogged by lack of sleep, was still working in its logical way, and he could see two possibilities.

One, he was going mad, hearing voices that weren't there.

Two, he was being stalked….by a ghost.

Theory #1 was not an attractive prospect. He had no proof that he had been hearing Ellie's calls for the past six months or more. On the contrary, he had made sure that no record of them appeared in the station's log, as he knew he shouldn't have been talking to her in the first place.

Theory #2. Well, that wasn't exactly something he was keen on either. But how to prove it either way?

Dammit, why had he ever taken that trip to Mull? If he hadn't been there, hadn't discovered Ellie's history, their conversations would have carried on just as before.

Hang on, there was something he could check. Still in his pyjamas, he made his way to the control room and sat down at the computer. It took a bit of digging. First he had to find out the name of the newspaper that covered the isle of Mull, and even with that he only had a rough idea of the date. But he soon found himself staring at the headline 'Family killed in tragic blaze'. Mull was not a place where a lot happened, so the story of the discovery of the tragedy, the inquest and the funeral, took up several issues of the paper. John stared at the text, half-wishing that the website showed photos as well – he would have liked to have seen what Ellie had looked like.

He sat back, rubbing his eyes. Stories like this always made him feel frustrated, wishing there was something that he, that someone, could have done. But there had been no chance of International Rescue coming to the aid of this family – even if the fire had been discovered in time, this was well before Jeff Tracy had even thought of the idea of a rescue service.

But at least it proved that Ellie was not some figment of his own fevered brain. Not that that was much help. He still had another ten days to go of his shift, and at this rate would be a nervous wreck by the time Thunderbird Three came to collect him.

After a few hours fitful sleep, he woke at his normal time and tried to go about his duties. Today his uniform sported an extra feature. Clipped to his belt was his personal stereo, blasting away as loud as he could bear it. He would rely on the visual display from the Emergency Alert to warn him of any rescue calls.

But even this gave him no respite. In the middle of the morning the music suddenly faded out and a familiar voice came through the headphones. "John? I know you can hear me. I just want to talk."

This was the last straw. John wrenched the headphones from his ears and flung them across the room. He grabbed the microphone and thumbed the switch. "Leave me alone! I don't want to talk to you!"

"John? What's wrong?" Ellie sounded genuinely confused.

"Go away! I can't talk to you!"

"Why not, John, What's the matter?"

"You're dead! I can't talk to a ghost."

"What did you say?" There was a catch in her voice.

"You're dead, Ellie."

"No!" her voice was a sob now. "Don't say that. I can't be dead. I never got chance to live."

"I'm sorry, Ellie," his voice was calmer now. "I went to Mull to see you. I found your cottage. You died nearly twenty years ago. That's why you haven't been able to talk to anyone on your radio. I don't know how or why, but only I seem to be able to hear you."

"No, no, you're lying! I'm not going to listen to this any more." There was a click as the transmission ended.

John sat down, feeling totally drained. When he put his hand to his face he found his cheeks were wet. In all his years of dealing with calls from rescue victims, he doubted if he had ever had a call that had shaken him quite so much.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

"Whatever is the matter with you? You look terrible!"

'Thank you, Scott," John said as he sat down in one of the chairs on Thunderbird Three's flight deck and started to strap himself in. "I'm pleased to see you, too."

Scott gave his brother a hard stare as he began the undocking procedure from the space station. John was the slim one of the family anyway, but this time his clothes seemed to hang on him and the dark circles under his eyes told of some inner turmoil, as did the way he was clenching and unclenching his fingers.

"What have you been up to? Are you sick or something?" Scott shook his head. "I hope not, we're short-handed enough until Virgil gets back from Chicago at the end of the week."

"Oh, he's off again is he?" asked John. "He seems to be spending a lot of time there. Has he got a girlfriend over there?" Unlike the other brothers, who always seemed to come to John with their confidences, Virgil always shared his with Scott.

Scott's expression gave nothing away. "Whether he has or not, we are still going to need you if we get called out."

John gave a smile, which somehow did not seem to reach his eyes. "I'll be OK, Scott. It's just that I haven't been sleeping too well lately. A few good nights' sleep and I'll be fine." He seemed to make an effort to pull himself together. "So, apart from Virgil's love life, what else have I missed while I've been away?"

The following day, Grandma Tracy came bustling into the lounge. Scott and Gordon, who were sitting in a corner playing chess, exchanged glances. They knew that expression on their grandmother's face all too well, and it did not bode well for someone.

She went straight up to her son who was, as usual, seated at his desk. "Jeff, do you know where John is?"

Jeff shook his head. 'Sorry, Mother, I haven't seen him all morning." He pressed a button on his desk and one of the portraits on the other side of the room slid up to reveal a plan of the house, with various glowing dots. "According to this, his watch is showing that he's in his room."

Mrs Tracy shook his head. "His watch certainly is. I found it at the back of his sock drawer when I was putting his clean clothes away; but John isn't there, and what's more, half the stuff from his room is missing too!"

Jeff looked surprised. "What do you mean, Mother?"

She started to count items off on her fingers. "His music system has gone, so has his computer, the bedside clock, even the house intercom system has been removed!"

Gordon looked up from the chessboard. "They're all sitting in boxes in Alan's room. I saw them when I went to return a book that Alan had lent me. I wondered where they had come from."

Scott joined in. "I saw John this morning. He was just leaving the kitchen when I came in for breakfast. He said he was going for a walk on the cliffs."

Mrs Tracy shook her head. "Something's not right with that boy, Jeff. You only have to look at him to see how much weight he's lost. Perhaps you should have a talk with him."

"Give him a few days, Mother. You know it always takes him a couple of days to adjust to being around people again. I'm sure he'll be fine."

The object of their discussion was at that moment walking back towards the Tracy villa. Though he had been on tenterhooks for the last part of his shift, he had not heard from Ellie since their emotional exchange ten days ago. He did not expect her to call him now he was back on the island, but for his own peace of mind it was a relief to be away from any communications equipment. After a good night's sleep and a morning in the open air, he felt as if the looming black cloud in his mind was gradually starting to disperse.

Though the one his brothers tended to go to when they needed advice, John normally kept his own counsel. But on this occasion, he decided that he needed advice himself, and knew just the person to ask.

He found Kyrano, as he had hoped, on his own in the greenhouse.

"Hi there, Kyrano. Need a hand with anything?"

Kyrano turned and gave a small bow. "Thank you, Mr John, that would be most kind of you. I am at present tying up these young tomato plants. Perhaps you could cut me some lengths of twine – about four inches long."

They worked side by side in companionable silence. Kyrano had also noticed that the young man had seemed to be under some sort of strain since his return, but waited for him to speak when he was ready. It did no good to rush these things.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Kyrano?"

The older man continued to work, tying up the delicate shoots, as he considered the question. "As you know, Mr John, I come from a background that puts more credence in spiritual things than does your Western education. I believe there are many things that are not fully understood by the world of science, or cannot be measured by Mr Brains' instruments. Though I, personally, have never seen a ghost, there are some things that one takes on trust." He turned to John with a small smile. "I have never seen the far side of the moon either, unlike you and your father, but I take your word that it exists."

John pressed on. "So why do you think some people become ghosts?"

The older man paused to stroke the leaf of one of the plants before answering. "In some cases it may be that the soul in question has been held back by something, either something physical, or some unfinished business. Perhaps their death has not been discovered and acknowledged, perhaps they simply cannot accept the fact that they are no longer of this world, or have some task that they need to complete." He turned to look at his younger companion. "You seem to have some specific person in mind. If you think it would help to tell me, then please feel free to do so."

Slowly at first, then gaining confidence, John began to tell of his conversations with Ellie, his trip to Mull and the discovery of her death, finishing with their last angry exchange.

When John had finished, Kyrano sat in silence for a moment, then looked up at his associate. "So, the problem seems to be that you don't want to talk to this young lady any more because you know that she is no longer alive?"

"Well, yes," answered John. That seemed obvious.

Kyrano shook his head. "But she is no more dead now than she was before you went to Scotland. The problem is your knowledge of her state, not her condition. In other words, the problem is with you, not with her."

John gave him a blank stare. He hadn't thought of it in quite that way.

The older man continued. "Have you wondered why it was she came to you, out of all the people she could have contacted in the years since her death?"

John shook his head. "I just presumed that is was only the equipment on TB5 that was capable of receiving her signal."

Kyrano put a hand on the young man's shoulder. "If that was the case, she could have spoken to Mr Alan, or to any of your brothers who have manned the space station since it started operating, even to my Tin Tin when she has stayed up there. But she came to you. You have some skill that she needs. You young men all have your different talents - Mr Scott's is organisation and Mr Virgil's is his music. Your strength is listening. Perhaps this young woman just needs someone to listen. Maybe with a friend who understands what she has become, she will be able to let go of this life. Then she will be able to pass on. Possibly, as followers of the Buddhist faith believe, she will be given a new life here on Earth, either as a human being or some other creature, to finish what she could not do in this one."

"So you think I should carry on talking to her, until she can accept what has happened to her?"

Kyrano smiled. "If you like, you can think of it as your own personal rescue project."

John thanked the older man and left the greenhouse in a much more positive state of mind. Yes, he would talk to Ellie next time he was on the station. Maybe he would be able to 'rescue' her – it certainly extended his father's idea in a way he had never envisaged.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three 

John woke to the sound of dripping water. Uh oh, had he left a tap running? He raised his head (why was he lying on his front anyway?) and his skull came into painful contact with a hard surface just above him. Consciousness returned with a rush bringing with it recent memories. He was on a rescue and, judging from the look of things, it was not going well for him. He struggled to piece together the sequence of events.

Two days after his conversation with Kyrano, they had been woken in the early hours of the morning by a call from Alan. International Rescue's help was needed in a small town on the south island of New Zealand that had been hit by an earthquake.

John had been operating the Domo, working in tandem with Gordon in the Mole while Scott co-ordinated with the local rescue services. The daylight was just starting to fade when they decided to call a halt. Scott had told them all to do a last sweep of the danger area to check for anyone they might have missed. John had finished searching his section, but on his way back, his attention had been alerted by a sound coming from a house that he had previously searched. The house was an old one, built before architects had learnt how to design for earthquake zones, and John entered with caution, treading carefully as the structure did not look very safe. "Hallo," he called. "Is anybody there?" A creaking sound made him look up, just in time to see the ceiling above him buckle and fall. He jumped back and felt the floor give way beneath his feet. That was the last thing he remembered.

He had lost his torch in the fall, but reaching a hand down, he managed to get a slim tube out of his pocket. He gave it a vigorous shake to agitate the chemicals it contained, causing it to glow. The view it revealed was not promising. He seemed to be trapped in a space about two feet high and three feet wide. His hands were free, and he could move his left leg, but trying to move his right sent a sharp pain shooting up the limb that made him catch his breath.

With a bit of careful manoeuvring, he brought his left hand into view. The face of his watch was cracked, but he hoped the electronics behind it were still intact. "John calling Mobile Control. Come in, Scott, do you read me?"

He tried again, hoping the more sensitive receivers on the space station would be able to detect his transmission.. "John to Thunderbird Five. Can you read me, Alan?"

The dripping sound had turned to a trickle, and he could feel water starting to pool under his body.

So much for the high-tech methods. How about a simpler solution? He raised his head. "Help!" he called. "Can anyone hear me?" He paused, listening for any sounds from above. "I'm down here! I need help!".

He considered trying to get his edible transmitter from his pocket, but this would only start to work once the outer capsule had been digested, and he did not think he had that much time. Already the water was trickling past his face and he was aware that even if his brothers were looking for him, they would not think to check this building as he had marked it as clear. He raised his watch again, in a forlorn hope. "Scott! Gordon! Alan! Can anybody hear me?"

A voice came from his watch, the last one he expected to hear. "I can hear you, John."

"_Ellie?"_ John couldn't believe his ears.

"Hallo, John. Where are you? You're not in your usual place."

"No, Ellie, I'm not. I'm…" He was about to continue when something shifted in the rubble above his head. The weight resting on his leg pressed down harder, causing John to bite his lip to stop him gasping from the pain.

"John, what's the matter? Are you hurt?"

"Ellie, I'm in trouble, big trouble. If I don't get out of here soon then I'm finished."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You'd help me? After I was so unkind to you?"

"Of course I would, John, you're my friend."

John thought quickly. "Could you take a message for me? To …to the place where you usually talk to me?"

"Yes, I can do that. What do you want me to say?"

"OK, here's the message…."

Up on Thunderbird Five, Alan was scanning the monitors, his face creased with concern. Scott had reported that John was missing, but Alan couldn't find any trace of the signal from his brother's watch.

Suddenly the Emergency Alert beeped.

'_Not now'_ Alan thought, '_Please.'_

"Alan? I've got a message from John" _('Hang on, who is this? How does she know my name?') "_John is trapped in the basement of a house. It's the building just across the street from the library, the one with a blue door. The basement is filling with water, so please hurry. Oh, and he says that so that you know this message is from him, he found your copy of _Playboy_ down behind the fridge."

Alan stared at the monitor, his cheeks reddening. Then he shook his head. Never mind how or why, at least he had the information he needed. He would have a long talk with his elder brother later. He thumbed the microphone. "Scott, I've just heard from John!"

John was using his hands as a platform to try and keep his chin out of the water when he heard noises overhead. "Hang on there, John, we're coming!"

He looked at his watch, but had no idea if he was still in contact with his ethereal friend or not. "Thank you, Ellie," he whispered. "I promise I will do whatever I can to help you in return."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

As John walked up the track towards Liskay Point, he could feel his stomach churning. Last time he had walked this way he was full of hope and anticipation. Now he knew what he was going to see when he got there, but it didn't make it any easier. He had not heard from Ellie since the rescue, but once he was back on his feet again (though still with a slight limp) he had asked his father for a few days leave and made the journey to Mull.

He approached the ruined cottage, or at least, what remained of it, and looked inside. Only the front wall and one side wall remained, the other two walls and all interior partitions and floors having been consumed in the fire that had killed the family.

The dried stalks of the flowers he had left on his last visit lay untouched in the doorway. No-one ever came here. His feet crunched on broken roof tiles and pieces of timber as he stepped inside, looking at the remains of the family's possessions. He guessed it had not been worth the effort of clearing out a building that was destined to remain a ruin. John had seen many burnt-out dwellings in his years of rescue work and could recognise the remains of a few items of furniture – the carcase of an easy chair, the iron frame of a bed that had fallen through from the floor above.

A large metal case caught his eye where it lay at an angle in a pile of rubble. '_Ellie's radio?' _He approached it, casting a practised eye over the smashed dials and switches on the front. Ellie had told him that the radio had belonged to her grandfather, but he guessed it had not been new even then – the style seemed to date from at least a hundred years ago. Radios had been a hobby of John's since his schooldays. He had made his first crystal set in his early teens, then, wanting to be able to transmit as well as receive messages, had moved on to the modern equivalent of this device. He could still remember his delight when he had first managed to communicate with other enthusiasts some distance away.

His professional curiosity intrigued, he pulled the case down so it was resting the right way up on the littered floor. Crouching down in front of it, he wrestled with the catches that opened the front and peered inside. Yes, definitely from the mid to late twentieth century, judging from the components. His attention was caught by a small metal object, about the size of a matchbox. The tuning crystal block seemed to have a faint glow around it. He reached in and touched it, pulling his hand back when he found it was warm.

_Almost as if…._

_Oh my God._

_As if it was alive._

He sat back on his heels, his mind reeling. Ellie had told him, during one of their many conversations, that she kept the radio in the loft, where her younger brothers were not allowed to go, and would go up there at night to talk to people around the world. The newspaper report of the inquest had said that the fire had started downstairs after the family had retired for the night and they had been overcome by fumes before the flames had reached them. In his mind he could see Ellie sitting at her radio as the deadly fumes crept up the stairs. Had she been talking to someone at the time? Would they have realised what was happening?

Kyrano's words came back to him. '_There is a reason this girl came to you. You have some skill that she needs'. _Wondering if he had now totally lost his sanity, John unbuckled his watch, then reached inside the set and placed it against the tuning block. The hands of the watch disappeared, leaving a grey surface.

"John!" Ellie's voice seemed to come from all around him. "That is you, isn't it? You're here?"

John couldn't help but smile at the tone of delight in her voice. "Yes, Ellie, I'm here. I came to see you before, but didn't know how to find you."

"Hang on a minute, something's happening." The grey mist on the watch face cleared to show an attractive young woman with long dark hair and dancing green eyes. John gasped as he realised that for first time he was seeing the girl who had occupied his thoughts for so long.

"Ellie?" he said, his tone incredulous, though this was no stranger than anything else that had been happening lately.

"Hallo, John," she said, smiling. "I often wondered what you looked like. Are you OK now? You're safe? I was worried about you."

"Yes, I'm fine now – thanks to you. I never thanked you properly for passing on my message."

"John," her voice was sounding hesitant now, "I'm going to tell you something, something that makes me very ashamed."

John could not imagine what this revelation would be. "OK. Tell me then."

"After our last conversation on your station, I was so mad at you – at what you'd told me. When you said you were in danger, my first thought was 'I'm going to let you die.' I thought if I was dead and you were too, then we'd be together, so you could still talk to me. I'm sorry."

"But you did help me."

"Yes. I realised that if I was dead but somehow stuck, like you had said, then if you were dead we still wouldn't be together, so then I would have nobody to talk to. John," he could hear the catch in her voice, "I _am _dead, aren't I?"

He looked around at the wrecked cottage. "Yes, Ellie, I'm sorry. You, and your father, and the boys. You're all buried in the churchyard, with your mother."

"So they're all together and I'm still held here somehow?"

John looked at the crystal block in the radio. "I think I know what happened. I think I could set you free. But I won't do it unless you want me to. I would still be your friend if that is what you want."

She gave a little sob. "It doesn't seem fair that I never got the chance to do anything with my life."

John wanted nothing more at that point than to put his arms round this young woman and console her, but words were all he had to offer. "A friend told me recently that he believes that some souls, who haven't learnt all they need to learn in this world, get given another chance."

"You mean reincarnation?"

John nodded. "I can't promise anything, nobody knows for sure, but it must be better to take a chance than be trapped here forever. He says you may not come back as a person, you might be an animal, but it would still be a life."

"Or maybe a bird?" she asked, a note of hope in her voice. "Maybe one of my sea eagles?"

John glanced up at the sky visible through the gaping roof. "Yes, maybe even one of them."

On the screen her face took on a decisive look. "OK then, I'll take the chance. Do what you have to do."

He reached inside the radio, then halted. "Goodbye, Ellie, and thank you again for helping me."

She smiled at him. "I think we've helped each other. Goodbye, John. Do it now, please, before I lose my nerve."

His eyes misting with tears, he knocked away the watch and pulled the block free from its mount. It glowed brighter for an instant and then went dull. Retrieving his watch, he stood and made his way outside, heading for the cliff edge. The crystal block lay in the palm of his hand, inert. Cold. _Dead._

In a swift movement he flung the block out over the waves. "Goodbye, Ellie. I hope you find what you are looking for."

Then he turned and walked back down the path. Overhead the eagles circled, crying.

End


End file.
